


blue lights on a black night

by gracieminabox



Series: horizons universe [6]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Meet the Family, POV Multiple, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 09:58:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11355117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracieminabox/pseuds/gracieminabox
Summary: In which Phil brings Chris home for the holidays and his family is annoyingly perceptive.





	blue lights on a black night

The blond kid in the window seat was chewing his nails down to the quick and it was kind of grossing Jill out. She’d been a flight attendant on Earth-based shuttles for more than ten years, but she still had a certain amount of difficulty coping with the tactics of some people who were afraid of flying.

The brunet next to him, bless his heart, smacked the blond kid’s hand down. “Would you _stop?”_ he intoned, just loud enough to where Jill could hear. 

“I’m sorry,” Blondie said meekly, sitting on his hands. “I’m just… _gah.”_ He shook his head dismissively.

Brownie frowned a little. “Chris, are you _nervous?”_ he asked with slight incredulity.

 _“No,”_ Blondie - _Chris? -_ shot back in a tone that Jill interpreted to clearly mean _yes_. “I’m just…Phil, I’m not good at meeting new people.”

 _Ah,_ Jill thought. _Not scared of flying. Scared of meet-the-parents-ing. Got it._

“Oh, I’ll be sure to pass that on to Marcus,” Brownie _\- Phil -_ said dryly. “Command’s golden boy and the dip corps’ poster child _isn’t good with new people._ C’mon.” Chris rolled his eyes a little, but Phil continued. “You’re gonna do great. You’re smart, you’re nice, you’re anecdotal, you’re funny – it’ll be fine. Plus, I doubt you’re gonna start any dinner table fistfights over Earth’s trade agreements with Tellar Prime, which means you’re already doing better than my sister’s ex-boyfriend did at Thanksgiving six years ago.” 

Chris furrowed his brow. “How…how did he manage that?” 

Phil grinned evilly, showing a disconcerting number of teeth. “With my help,” he answered. His gaze turned affectionate and warm. “They’re my family. They’re gonna love you.”

Chris looked away from Phil and smiled weakly. “I hope so.” 

Phil’s gaze was laced with such breathtaking tenderness that Jill had to look away, feeling as if she was intruding on something far too private. She cleared her throat, blushing a little, but couldn’t keep a smile off her face as she spoke into the shuttle’s PA system. “Passengers, we are beginning our final descent into the Augusta Regional Shuttleport…”

 

~

 

When the knock on the door came, Jenny Boyce could barely contain her excitement in yanking open the door for her far-flung child.

“Baby!” she burst, throwing out her arms and grabbing Phil around the middle.

Phil grinned hugely, squeezing her around the shoulders and swaying with her a little in the doorway. “Hi, Mom,” he said into her hair. Behind him, a taller, thinner, blonder figure hovered, though Jenny couldn’t make out details that well yet.

Finally, Phil let her go and tugged on the blond boy’s arm. “Mom, this is Chris. I told you he was coming.”

Chris smiled politely, and Jenny could faintly hear his teeth chattering in the cold, the poor thing. “It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Boyce.”

“Call me Jenny,” she said, tugging Chris to her and pulling him, too, into a hug. Chris’ arms were more tentative around her, but she squeezed him, and he laughed. 

In her periphery, Phil beamed, and something in Jenny’s brain went _oh_.

“Where is everybody?” Phil asked.

Jenny separated from Chris, patted his cheek (he was _blushing_ , the adorable boy), then turned to Phil. “Scattered. Your dad’s in the kitchen with…some assortment of grandchildren; I’ve lost track.”

Phil caught Chris’ glance, and before Jenny’s eyes, the two of them seemed to have a totally wordless conversation. It was brief, only a couple of seconds, but it seemed to _matter_ \- and then, before she could process it, the two of them were off to the kitchen.

As she watched them retreat, the puzzle pieces assembled in her mind, and she smiled.

 

~

 

Phoenix Boyce was sixteen years old, which was a good long life for a canine of her age and pedigree. At this point, she was a creature of simple pleasures. She liked her bed, her stuffed giraffe, that honey-roasted turkey Lily brought over sometimes, a good poop, and best of all, her best friend Phil. When Phil went so far away for so long, Phoenix was very sad; whenever Phil came back, she was ecstatic, and told him so, with much barking and slobbering.

So when Phil came home for the holiday where the blue lights were up all over the house, she was delighted - until she sniffed him and got confused. _Anxiety. Apprehension. Pheromones?_

Whatever. She slobbered all over his face anyway, before noticing the person he’d brought with him. She cocked her head to the side, considering.

Phil put her in a gentle headlock. “Phoenix, this is Chris; can you say hi?”

The man - Chris, was it? - knelt down and smiled, holding his hand out to her. “Hi, Phoenix,” he said kindly.

Phoenix tentatively sniffed the proffered hand, and smelled… _ohhhh. He smells like pheromones too. I get it._

She gave his hand a few licks, then went and flopped onto her dog bed to observe the rest of the proceedings.

Privately, she thought Phil could do a lot worse.

 

~

 

“Jesus, you’re huge!”

Lily glared bloodlessly up at Phil from her spot on the loveseat. “Hey, screw you too, _Peej.”_

Lily gave a satisfied grin as Phil scowled as his much-despised nickname. “I hate you.” He flopped next to her on the couch, wrapped an arm around her neck, and tugged her to him, kissing the top of her head. “How are you?”

“Pregnant, how about you?”

“Not pregnant.”

“That’s good news for us all.” Lily smoothed a hand over a wayward cowlick on Phil’s head; he needed a haircut.

“How are these two?” Phil asked, nodding to her belly.

“Well, your nephew’s using my ribcage as a jungle gym,” Lily answered, “and your niece seems to delight in headbutting me in the bladder. I hate being pregnant, I do.” 

Phil smiled sympathetically. “You’re almost there, Lil.”

“Not _almost_ enough,” Lily groused, shifting position. “Weren’t you bringing someone home for Christmas?”

Phil nodded, his smile growing. “Yeah. Chris. He’s in the kitchen with Dad.”

“You guys are roommates? How’s that working out?”

Phil looked down at his hands. “He’s my best friend.” 

Lily arched an eyebrow almost imperceptibly. “Uh huh. What’s he like?”

Phil shrugged in a pathetic attempt at nonchalance. “He’s…he’s great. He’s smart and he’s funny and he’s charming and…he’s strong…and…” He trailed off.

“And,” Lily picked the thread up, not bothering to lower her voice _even a little bit_ , “exactly how big is your crush on him?”

Phil’s eyes raised to Lily’s sharply. “Lillian.”

“Philip,” she countered, not batting an eye.

Phil looked back down at his hands. “He’s my best friend,” he repeated softly.

Lily nodded, feeling a little guilty. “Okay. Well. We’ll come back to that. Now, help me off the couch; I’ve gotta pee.”

Phil stood and tugged her to her feet, and she made her way down the hall, pausing to look back at her brother. He looked a little distant, lost…vulnerable.

Phil was _never_ vulnerable. Phil was _always_ strong.

It was disconcerting.

 

~

 

The dinner conversation no longer interested Charlie. His brother’s behavior did.

He kicked Phil under the table. Phil looked up at him with raised eyebrows, as if to say, _what?_

Charlie leaned in close. “You’re eating off Chris’ plate.”

Phil gave him another look, this one as if to say, _yes, and?_

“Why are you eating off Chris’ plate?”

Phil turned his head and looked around; Chris and their parents seemed to be knee-deep in a discussion of fuel combustion rates in early Terran land vehicles and unlikely to overhear them. “Chris is allergic to cranberries,” Phil hissed. “Mom put them in the stuffing even though I told her not to; I think she just forgot. Chris doesn’t want to make a big deal of it, and he doesn't want to hurt Mom’s feelings if she notices he's not eating them, so yes, I am eating Chris’ cranberries.”

Charlie frowned uncomprehendingly. “Phil?”

 _“What?”_ Phil said on a long exhale.

“ _You_ don’t even like cranberries.” Charlie nodded to Phil’s plate. “You’re not even eating your own.”

“Correct.”

“But you’re eating his.”

Phil speared one off Chris’ plate and popped it in his mouth in response.

Charlie just looked at Phil for a long moment before nodding slowly. “All right then.”

 

~

 

The boy Uncle Phil brought home for Christmas was _really_ cute, but Audrey was unsettled, because the way Uncle Phil looked at him, and the way the boy looked back, made her wonder.

She tugged on her mom’s sleeve as Granny and Papa were serving dessert. “Are Chris and Uncle Phil boyfriends?” she whispered into her mom’s ear. 

Audrey’s mom looked at her, then up to the two of them laughing across the table, then back to Audrey, her eyes dancing a little with amusement.

“I’m honestly not sure, sweetie.”

 

~

 

Henry Boyce lived his life in a quiet way.

He’d left Montreal and then Boston for Waterville, Maine, of all godforsaken places, for want of Jenny and a quiet way. He was a genius, probably - he’d never taken actual tests to confirm it, but, well, he probably _was_ \- and could probably be a professor or a physicist or something if he wanted to; instead, he taught eighth-grade math and had no big expansive published papers to his name.

He loved Jenny and the kids more than anything in the world, and though he wore his heart on his sleeve in terms of telling and showing them that they were important to him, it was only the tip of the iceberg. The true, expansive depth of his love for his family was a subtle, quiet thing, so that you had to really be looking for it in order to see it.

Phil, more than Charlie or the girls, took after Henry in this regard, he thought, as he watched his younger son and his best friend washing dishes after dinner.

The two of them had an intuitive rhythm, the kind of rhythm Henry had with Jenny now; Phil would wash a dish, hand it to Chris without looking, and Chris would dry it and put it in the rack, then hold out his hand for another. They were talking lowly, something about one of the grandkids who’d gotten inexplicably attached to Chris; and even in the darkened kitchen, with the only light coming from the dying twilight filtering through the window above the sink, clouds thick and heavy with impending snow, Henry could see them smiling at one another. 

Henry didn’t know Chris well enough yet to interpret his smiles, but Henry sure as hell knew Phil’s smiles, because they were _Henry’s_ , too. And the affection on Phil’s face - scratch that; the outright _adoration_ on Phil’s face - well.

Henry knew he looked at Jenny like that.

He got distracted from his observation when Chris let out a low gasp and looked out the window. “Is that - ?”

Phil’s grin grew. “Yeah. It’s snowing, California Boy.”

Phil reached out and ruffled Chris’ hair with a still-wet hand. Something curled warm fingers around Henry’s heart and squeezed.

 

~

 

Phil’s boy looked _radiant_ in the snow. The blue Christmas lights lining the house shone brilliantly on the visible halo of golden hair that wasn’t covered up by Phil’s winter cap, and add in that bright grin of wonder, and…well.

Sarah plopped a hat on Phil’s head by way of introduction, then sat down next to him on the bench without a word.

Phil took the hat off, examined it, then put it back on his head. “Whose hat is this?”

“Dad’s,” Sarah said. “I knew you gave yours to Golden Boy over there. In case you’ve forgotten, you _do_ need a hat in a New England winter, dummy.”

Phil just rolled his eyes. “And you came out here just out of concern for my health?”

“No,” Sarah answered, nodding to the little sleeping figure in Phil’s lap. “I came out here because you absconded with my child.”

“So I did,” Phil said, cuddling the baby a little closer, then looking back out to the kids, plus Chris, in the snow.

“Audrey’s certainly staked her claim,” Sarah snorted, watching their niece following Chris around like an imprinted duckling.

“I warned him about her,” Phil laughed.

“Wise precaution,” Sarah said sagely. They sat in silence for a few minutes before Sarah broke it again. “He’s really beautiful.”

Phil’s voice was suddenly tiny. “Yeah, he is.”

Sarah looked at him. They were the closest in age of all the Boyce siblings, Sarah and Phil, and the closest emotionally too; the great intuiters, the keepers of one another’s secrets. Sarah was one of the only people in Federation space to whom Phil could never convincingly lie. 

(Chris, she surmised, was probably another one.)

“Oh, Phil,” Sarah said softly, watching as Phil’s eyes shuttered closed. “I see. Don’t I?” 

Phil didn’t confirm it, because he didn’t need to. He just sighed.

“Does he know?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure, yeah.”

“Tell him!” Sarah implored. “You’re clearly bonded with him, and I see how you _both_ look at one another; you can’t think he wouldn’t - ” 

“He’s straight, Sarah,” Phil cut her off. “He’s straight and dating a lovely science division student named Samantha, and the only reason he’s even rooming with me is because he set his dorm room on fire trying to make breakfast in bed for her, and now he borrows my ties to take her out on dates and I get the pleasure of inadvertently eavesdropping on their comms.” Phil nestled his head down onto Sarah’s shoulder. “He’s my best friend and he’s straight and he’s in love and…”

Sarah’s arm wound her way around his shoulders. 

“Tell me I’ll get over it,” Phil said, slightly begging. “Tell me it’s just a stupid crush and I’ll get over it in a month or two and it’ll be fine.”

Sarah was quiet for a moment, then said, “If you think it’s true, I’ll say it. Do you think it’s true?” 

Phil swallowed audibly. “No,” he almost whispered.

Sarah squeezed his shoulder. “I’m sorry, honey.” 

Phil shrugged sadly. “It’s okay,” he lied. “I’ve just gotta sit on it forever. That should be plenty easy, right?”

Chris suddenly looked back to the two of them, snowflakes dusting the shoulders of his jacket and sticking to his eyelashes, grin wide and adorable, and Phil grinned back, as though that entire painful conversation hadn’t just happened.

“Can you really keep this to yourself, Phil?” Sarah asked.

Phil’s grin didn’t even leave his face, nor did his eyes leave Chris’ as he answered her. “If it keeps him around.”

 

~

 

“Phil?”

Phil’s eyes fluttered open; Chris was facing him, eyes illuminated by the light from the window, tinted blue from the Christmas lights. He was close, _so_ close, inches away from him in the same double bed, close enough that Phil could feel Chris’ exhales on his face, and _damn his parents for the idea of putting them in a bed together_. “Hmm?”

Chris smiled sleepily. “Thanks for bringing me here.”

The hush of snowfall sounded from outside. At the foot of the bed, Phoenix smacked her lips contentedly in her sleep. And but for the insistent ache in his heart, Phil felt warm and safe and happy and so, _so_ stupidly in love.

“Anytime, Chris.”


End file.
